


Riding in Elevators with Boys

by Patchcat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: Fall Harvest, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, Ghosts, Hale Family Feels, Hand Jobs, Haunted Houses, M/M, Monster of the Week, Panic Attacks, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-04-29 17:20:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5136173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patchcat/pseuds/Patchcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A haunted house with an actual ghost.  How cliche could you get?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Riding in Elevators with Boys

**Author's Note:**

  * For [werewolvesandarrows (nerdy_farm_girl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdy_farm_girl/gifts).



> Thanks to C, J, and V for the beta work. This thing would be in much worse shape without you all. And thanks to the FH mods for running this fest once again. You guys are amazing and rock so hard. I hope you enjoy this, werewolvesandarrows!
> 
> Just in case anyone missed the tag, there is description of a panic attack within. Please read with your own self-care in mind.

“Oh my God, Derek,” Stiles griped as they made their way through a dark, cobweb covered hallway. “A Halloween haunted house that is _actually fucking haunted_. How cliche can you get?”

Derek rolled his eyes and didn’t answer. What could he say, really? Stiles had been ranting on the exact same topic for the past hour they’d been wandering around the attraction. Derek had given up on even grunting in acknowledgement about 10 minutes ago. He was a little concerned with how shrill Stiles’ voice was getting the longer they were here, though.

“The only thing that could make this even _more_ cliche,” Stiles continued to rant, his arms waving in the air and almost smacking Derek in the face. “Is if it were actually Halloween and not the middle of fucking _July_!” Derek grimaced as they brushed their way through hanging spiderwebs and fake dust curtains, watching them sway gently in the Stiles-generated breeze. 

A mechanical bat swooped over their heads as they ducked around a dark corner and spooky noises came out of a hidden speaker. “Oh, come on!” Stiles snarled as strobe lights flickered around them and threw fantastical shadows on the walls. “Did the asshole ghost have to turn the damned thing _on_? As if us chasing a ghost wasn’t bad enough, the asshole had to make everything a thousand percent stupider.” 

He angrily waved his hand in front of his face, trying to dispel the artificial fog that had crept up on them. Derek tried to take shallow breathes. That shit smelled nasty and burned his nasal passages. Thank God it stayed in the corridor when they opened a door and entered a cobweb-covered dining room full of fake monsters. Stiles huffed in disgust and stomped his way to the room’s exit.

The building was a typical, run-of-the-mill cheesy Halloween attraction set up in one of the many abandoned multi-story buildings scattered around Beacon Hills. Several years ago, Derek knew Stiles wouldn’t have batted an eye at any of the hokey special effects -- hell, he probably would have been laughing himself sick at some of this garbage -- but that was before all the shit they’d been through the last few years. Derek couldn’t ignore the nervous fear scent wafting off of Stiles in waves even as he muttered under his breath and made angry gestures at the effects. Stiles’ obvious anxiety about the place was the only reason Derek hadn’t told him to shut up yet. 

A skeleton springing out of an alcove right next to them made Stiles jump and press into Derek’s side, muffling a quiet scream. “God, I hate this shit,” Stiles said, taking a couple of deep breaths. His frantic heartbeat drummed in Derek’s ear. He could feel it where they were pressed together, even through the layers of their clothes. “Don’t we get enough of this bullshit without having to fake it?”

The corridor twisted and then widened into a long, narrow room with a series of doors on either side. A sign above the dead end wall at the back stated _“The only way out is through, but which door is up to you. Make your choice with care, for the wrong one could lead to quite the scare!”_ Derek huffed in frustration. Who came up with this shit?

This was getting ridiculous. They’d been wandering all over the place for hours. There’d been no sign of the ghost they were chasing and no contact from Scott and Lydia, whom they had parted ways with at the front door. So much for divide and find their quarry faster. To make matters worse, Stiles was getting increasingly more agitated, as evidenced by the background buzz of his running commentary. 

The hairs on the back of Derek’s neck stood up when he realized that the commentary had suddenly stopped.

“Stiles?” Derek whipped around, eyes darting frantically until he located Stiles. Stiles was standing in front of one of the doors, staring wide-eyed at the demonic image that stared back at him. His heart was beating a mile a minute, and his breath was coming in frantic gasps, the sound harsh in Derek’s ears. 

“Stiles?” Derek called again.

Stiles shook his head,the motion wild and a little frantic as he slammed the door and backed away. He stood in the middle of the room with his arms wrapped around his middle, and Derek could see the tremors that wracked his body as he fought to control his fear. Dropping his arms and curling his hands into fists, he set his jaw with grim determination and stomped across the room, yanking open another door.

Breathing hard through his nose, he slammed that door, too; and angrily gritted out, “Come on, Derek. The faster we get through these doors, the faster we can get the fuck out of here.”

Derek watched as Stiles continued to yank open and slam doors, each movement jerkier and more frantic than the last. By the end, it was obvious he was on autopilot because he didn’t even realize when he came back around and opened the first door again. Stiles stood there, frozen, the door flung wide, and just...stared, jaw trembling and eyes wide. 

Derek was positive Stiles was about to start screaming. 

Making an executive decision, Derek pulled out his phone and dialed Scott. Tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for the Alpha to pick up, Derek gently pulled Stiles away from the door, closed it, then turned and put his back against it. Stiles closed his eyes and sank down to the floor.

“Scott,” Derek barked when the call connected. “I’m getting Stiles out of here. This place is getting to him, and I don’t want him stroking out on me.” Stiles made a noise of protest from where he was crouched down on the ground, trying to calm down. 

Derek distinctly heard him muttering _“It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real, not going to take me over, it’s not real…”_ over and over again. Derek stepped over and crouched down next to him, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. “I’ll come back after I take him home.”

“Yeah, that’s cool, Derek,” Scott responded, his voice strained and distorted as though he was talking around his fangs. “Lydia and I found the ghost! Chased him through that room with the doors and down some stairs. She has him pinned down in the ballroom on the second floor.” A loud boom echoed through the phone and the air around them, and Derek looked up in concern when the room shook and dust drifted through the air. 

“What the hell, Scott?!” Derek growled, grabbing Stiles by the arm and pulling him up, dragging him toward the door he could smell Scott on. He pushed it open and started batting bloody body bags out of the way. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s waist, burying his face against his side with a whimper.

Something shrieked on the other end of the phone line. “Lydia,” Stiles breathed, exchanging a wide-eyed look with Derek.

“Scott!” Derek yelled into the phone as he ducked under a spray of cold air and fake cobwebs. “What’s happening?”

“Sorry about that!” Scott panted, the sound of breaking glass and ripping wood echoing down the line. “Lydia did some weird banshee thing. The ghost didn’t like it.”

“Ya think, Scotty!” Stiles yelled toward the phone as another boom echoed through the building. He had plastered himself so close to Derek that he was able to hear the phone. “What the hell, dude?!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Scott said distractedly. They could hear things being thrown around and Lydia’s shouts of protest and outrage. 

_”Oh, no, you did not!”_ Lydia was in fine form, even as a faint voice down the phone line. _”Those were my favorite Minolos! You did **not** just make me step in -- **Son of a bitch!** ”_ There was a heavy thud, and Lydia’s triumphant _“HA!”_

“Lydia’s got it under control,” Scott said smugly. “Just get out of here.” 

Derek heaved a sigh of relief as he spied a brightly lit exit sign pointing at the double doors of the elevator that had brought them to this floor. He started down the long corridor toward it, keeping Stiles tucked up against his side. 

“We’ll meet up in the morning -- _Lydia, watch out!_ ” Scott cried as the line went dead. 

Derek and Stiles exchanged a panicked look and sprinted to the elevator. Derek beat Stiles by inches and jammed the call button so hard he thought for sure he’d broken it. 

“Come on. _Come on_ ,” Stiles muttered, jabbing at the call button again and again. He chewed on his thumbnail and bounced on his toes. The scent of his anxiety was harsh and acrid in Derek’s nose.

To distract him, Derek asked, “What floor was the ballroom on?” Stiles continued to mutter and fidget and didn’t seem to have heard the question. He snapped his fingers in Stiles’ face. “Stiles!” he barked, his eyes flashing. 

Stiles blinked and finally focused on Derek just as the elevator pinged and the doors slid open. He stepped inside, shaking his head and chewing on his lip. “What?” His brow creased briefly, then cleared. “Two,” he said, pushing the button.

Derek leaned against the back wall and watched Stiles fidget. Drawing a deep breath, he was almost overwhelmed by the emotions rolling off of Stiles. Fear, agitation, anxiety, they all rolled into a Stiles who was trying to hide the fact that he was right on the verge of panicking. Having spent enough time with him in these kinds of situations, Derek was very familiar with the signs.

He reached out and settled his hand on the back of Stiles’ neck, rubbing gently. “It’ll be okay, Stiles,” he said, trying to be reassuring. The tension under his fingers made him think he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. “We’ll be down there soon, and this will all be over.”

He felt Stiles draw a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know,” he said faintly. “I _know_! I just --”

Suddenly there was another loud boom, and the elevator jolted to a screeching halt. Stiles and Derek had just enough time to stare at each other in shock before they were plunged into darkness. Stiles whined and went stiff against him.

“Great,” Derek growled. “Just great.” This was just what they needed. The darkness was so absolute that not even Derek’s werewolf vision was able to penetrate it. Stiles’ breathing was getting harsher, and Derek could hear him slapping his hand against the wall.

He needed to get them out of there. _Please don’t let us be between floors,_ Derek thought. He reached out to where he had last seen Stiles and managed to tangle his hand in his shirt. “Stiles,” he said, keeping his voice low and even and praying that his touch would get Stiles to focus. “I’m going to try to open the doors, okay? See if we can’t climb out and find some stairs or something.”

His only answer was a gasping breath and the rustle of fabric. The shirt slipped out of Derek’s grip as Stiles slid down the wall and hit the floor with a thump. Leaning down, Derek found Stiles’ shoulder and ran his hand down Stiles’ arm, finding his hand and giving is a reassuring squeeze. He felt Stiles lean forward and rest his head against Derek’s shoulder, exhaling and nodding slowly.

Derek ran his hand over Stiles’s hair and straightened, feeling his way to the wall and following it to the split in the door. Wedging his claws into the seam, he grit his teeth and pulled as hard as he could. There was a loud squeal and the shriek of protesting motors as the door slowly started to give. 

Derek paused, taking a deep breath and adjusting his grip. He could feel his face rearranging as his shift flowed through him, and he wrenched the door open a couple more inches. There was a loud bang, a thud -- and the door stopped moving completely. No amount of wrenching, shoving, pulling, or even wedging his shoulder against the edge and putting all his strength into it would get it to budge.

Blinking into the faint glow of an emergency light that spilled from the crack he had managed, he was very disappointed to see that they were, indeed, stuck between floors. There was about an inch wide crack between the top of the door and the bottom of the floor. The space was way too narrow to allow them to climb out that way.

Derek turned and found Stiles staring at him, eyes wild and chest heaving as he gasped for air. He was huddled up against the wall, hugging his knees and swallowing hard as he tried to catch his breath. “Der -- Derek?” he wheezed.

“Stiles!” Derek cried, dropping to his knees beside Stiles. He started to reach for Stiles’ shoulder, only to recoil when Stiles flinched hard enough to almost topple himself over. He felt a sense of helplessness wash over him as Stiles struggled to breath, every now and then a gasping whine coming from low in his throat.

“We’re gonna die here, Derek,” Stiles wheezed, his eyes glistening with panicked tears. “The elevator’s gonna fall or the ghost is going to find us or -- or -- or I don’t know what. But we. are going. to _die in here_!”

“That’s not happening, Stiles,” Derek said firmly. “Not if I can help it.” Stepping over to the door, he put his ear to it, straining to hear anything at all. Faintly, he picked up the barest whisper of Scott’s voice echoing through the building. 

“I can hear Scott,” Derek said. “He’s close. He’ll get us out of here.” Derek pulled out his phone and dialed. “Pick up the phone,” he growled impatiently as it rang. “Pick up the phone. Pick up the -- SCOTT!” he shouted when the call connected. “Scott, where are you? Please tell me you’ve got everything under control because we’re in a bit of a bind here.”

“Derek? What happened?” Scott demanded. “What’s going on? Where are you guys?”

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed and stood up to pace. Stiles’ heartbeat and heavy breaths thundered in his ears. “We’re stuck in the elevator because there is no power and Stiles is panicking. Please tell me you’re close enough to help and that you can get us out of here _NOW_.”

“You’re in the elevator?” Scott asked hoarsely. “The elevator that has no power?” 

“Yes, Scott,” Derek answered. He had a bad feeling about this. “The elevator that has no power. You wouldn’t happen to know why that is. _Would you_.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. Silence followed by a sheepish chuckle that made Derek want to reach through the phone and strangle the Alpha. Because that chuckle? Usually meant Scott was about to say something Derek wasn’t going to like.

“Um. Yeah.” Derek could practically _hear_ Scott’s wince. “That might be our fault.”

Yup. Bingo.

“Explain,” Derek snarled. Stiles slapped the floor, and Derek turned to see him making a gesture at the phone. It took a minute to realize that he wanted Derek to put it on speaker. It took everything in him not to smash the screen punching the button.

“Well, the ghost didn’t exactly _like_ the fact that there was a banshee in his house and kind of went a little ballistic,” Scott answered quickly, his voice tinny in the enclosed space. “He tapped into the electrical system for the building and was throwing lightning balls at Lydia. I might have had to… well….” And there was that sheepish tone again.

Derek pinched his nose and fought the urge to bang his head against the wall. “You had to cut the power to make him stop.”

Lydia’s voice drifted over the line, and Derek fought back an exasperated sigh. “And so that Lydia could banish him, yeah. Um, yeah.” There was silence and then, faintly enough Derek almost didn’t hear it, “I might have torn the fuse box out of the wall to cut the power?”

God damn it.

This just kept getting better and better. “Great.” Derek sat down beside Stiles and looked over. Stiles’ heart rate and breathing had started to settle a bit while he listened to Scott, but it sped up again as the implication of what Scott had just told them set in. 

“Sc - Scott.” Stiles’ voice shook, and he swallowed hard. “You gotta get me outta here, buddy. Call -- Get my dad! Please? Get him out here. He’ll -- he’ll make sure --” Stiles broke off, gasping for breath.

“Yeah,” Scott agreed quickly, the sound of running feet and Lydia demanding to know what was going on coming through the speaker. “Yeah, I’ll get him, Stiles. You sit tight, and we’ll have you out of there in no time!” The line went dead.

Derek leveled an unimpressed look at the silent phone. “‘Sit tight’? Where the fuck would we _go_ , Scott?” It was too bad the force of his scowl couldn’t be felt through the concrete and steel between them. Scott would have gone up in flames if it could.

“Der-Derek,” Stiles’ gasped faintly, grabbing at the collar of his shirt and tugging weakly. “I can’t -- I can’t --” Stiles buried his head in his knees and curled up as small as he could.

“Stiles?” Derek sat down next to him, scooting as close as possible without touching. He stared helplessly at the top of Stiles’ head. He didn’t know how to _do_ this, damn it! “What can I do, Stiles? Please. Just tell me what you need.” He hated how desperate his voice sounded.

“Have to --,” Stiles bit out, lifting his head and gesturing to his torso. “Have to stop the -- the thing.” He swallowed and made a noise of frustration. “Can’t think.” He leaned forward and rested his head back down against his knees. “Distraction,” came the muffled reply. “I need -- something else to think about. Talk -- talk to me?”

_Talk to him,_ Derek thought, leaning his head back and staring up at the ceiling tiles. _Yeah. I can do that._

“Did I ever tell you that Cora and I used to have a yearly tradition of finding the cheesiest _and_ the scariest haunted house we could at Halloween?” Stiles breathing slowed down a little as he shook his head and leaned in to listen. “Yeah,” Derek continued with a chuckle. “Sometimes we would drag Laura with us, especially to the scary one. I remember one year…” Derek closed his eyes and swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. He hadn’t thought about this in years, and it hurt the way only a happy memory of a departed loved one could.

“One year, we dragged her to this ‘haunted forest’ thing. God,” he chuckled. “She thought it was the hokiest thing on the planet. But she went with us.” Derek smiled as he remembered how she’d let the actors chase her around, the whole time acting terrified when, really? She was having a blast. “After we were there for about an hour or so, and we’d managed to lose the actors who were chasing us, she got this bright idea. Oh, man! It scared the pants off those guys!”

Derek laughed as he lost himself in the memory, only startling a little when he felt the weight of Stiles’ head on his shoulder and noticed that he was no long gasping for breath. “What did you do?” Stiles asked quietly.

“Shifted and jumped out of this grove of trees when the actors ran past us,” Derek answered with a smirk. 

Stiles barked out a laugh, nuzzling his nose into the soft fabric of Derek’s shirt. He snuffled lightly against Derek, raising his head and lightly dragging his nose against Derek’s neck. Derek shivered at the sensation of lips lightly dragging across his skin. 

Derek reached down and gently cradled Stiles jaw, lifting his head and gazing deep into Stiles' eyes, studying him for a moment. Then he slowly brought their lips together in a hesitant kiss. Stiles startled, drawing a sharp breath through his nose and stiffening against Derek’s side. Then, just as Derek was about to pull away, Stiles relaxed with a quiet sigh and, to Derek’s surprise, kissed back.

Confident now in his reception, Derek kept it gentle, just a light press of lips. He scratched lightly at the nape of Stiles’ neck, drawing a quiet moan from him. Stiles' hand drifted to Derek’s waist, not pulling close or pushing away, just resting there, his thumb sweeping against top of Derek’s jeans. 

Slowly, Derek pulled away. His eyes, which had drifted shut, fluttered open to see Stiles looking at him in surprise, his breathing slightly accelerated, but the anxiety and panic missing from his scent. “Well,” Stiles said quietly. “Definitely wasn’t expecting that.” 

“Yeah,” Derek replied, his eyes roving over Stiles’ face. “Yeah, neither was I.” Derek leaned back in, telegraphing his intention and giving Stiles plenty of time to move away. He didn’t. Instead, he met Derek halfway, their lips colliding gently at first. And then Stiles made a high, sharp sound in the back of his throat and pressed harder, taking the kiss deeper.

Derek rubbed his thumb across Stiles’ cheek, softening the kiss and swiping his tongue across Stiles’ bottom lip. Stiles parted his lips, and Derek delved in, taking his first taste and moaning softly. Stiles gave as good as he got, tangling their tongues together and then drawing back to nip at Derek’s lips. 

Eventually, Derek broke the kiss and drew back to take in Stiles’ flushed face. His kiss-swollen lips are curved in a gentle smile, and his eyes were heavy lidded. “I didn’t think you even liked me,” Derek whispered.

“Are you kidding?” Stiles chuckled. “I’ve had a thing for you for, like, forever, dude. I just figured you weren’t interested. Didn’t figure you swung this way, either, what with the evil ex- _girl_ friends and everything.” 

It had been long enough that Derek could snort at that now. Or maybe it was just because it was Stiles. God knew he’d let him get away with worse. 

“Yeah, well,” Derek said, stroking his fingers across Stiles’ cheek. “I guess you just haven’t been paying attention.” 

Because there _had_ been boyfriends. Or, well, to be more precise, there had been one-, two-, and sometimes three-night stands. Or guys who hung around until the next supernatural emergency and then got pissed when Derek disappeared for several days with no warning.

Although, come to think of it, there really hadn’t been any of those for a very long time. So maybe...

“Maybe we’re both just idiots, then,” Derek said softly with a wry twist to his lips;

“Yeah,” Stiles murmured against Derek’s lips as he leaned in for another kiss. “I guess we are.”

Stiles moaned when Derek moved from his lips and traveled down the side of his neck. He mouthed at junction of Stiles’ neck and shoulder, scraping a fang across the warm skin. Stiles tilted his head to give better access and buried his hand in Derek’s hair, holding him in place.

Stiles started panting again, but this time it wasn’t from panic. Derek could smell the tangy aroma of Stiles’ arousal. His own cock strained against his zipper. Stiles twisted, and he felt an answering hardness against his thigh.

Derek smoothed his hand down, coming to rest it in the small of Stiles’ back. He licked a stripe up Stiles’ neck, mouthing at the sensitive skin behind his ear as Stiles bucked against him. Stiles’ hands fluttered from Derek’s neck to his biceps to his chest, never settling in one place for long. 

Stiles’ hips stuttered as Derek caught his mouth again. His face scrunched up a little, and Derek pulled back. 

“What?” Derek asked, running his hand through Stiles’ hair. Stiles squirmed around, throwing a leg over Derek’s lap and straddling him.

He turned a triumphant grin on Derek. “Much better,” he said, leaning in and pressing their lips together. His hands ran down Derek’s chest to the hem of his shirt, sliding under and settling against warm skin.

Derek moaned into the kiss, licking in to explore Stiles’ mouth. He moaned as Stiles thrust against him, rubbing their denim clad cocks together. Derek drew his head back sharply, gasping as a bolt of pleasure shot down his spine. Stiles took complete advantage of Derek’s exposed throat, latching on to suck and lick as Derek bucked up against him. 

Frustrated from the lack of skin contact, Derek gently pushed Stiles away and reached for the hem of his shirt. Stiles quickly got on the same page, pulling his own shirt over his head and tossing it over his shoulder. Stiles fumbled for the tab of the button of his jeans, raising up on his knees to work them down enough to pull himself out.

“Oh,” Derek sighed, a little drunk on the pleasure and the scent of their arousal that was slowly consuming him. “Good idea.”

Stiles awarded him with a wicked grin and reached for Derek’s pants. “I have those on occasion.” Holding up his hand, Stiles licked at his palm.

With a growl, Derek grabbed his wrist to stop him. Before Stiles could do more than huff in objection, Derek brought the hand to his own mouth, drawing one long finger between his lips and sucking. Stiles whimpered as Derek worked his way around, swirling his tongue between digits before licking broad, wet stripes across the palm.

Never breaking eye contact, Derek took Stiles’ hand and used it to reach between them. He wrapped it around his erection and started jacking himself, showing Stiles how he liked it. He’d always known Stiles was a quick study, and this was no different. It didn’t take long before he let go, and Stiles took over completely.

Derek moaned and thrust into the firm grip, gasping when Stiles’ thumb rubbed under the ridge below the head. He grabbed the back of Stiles’ head and pulled him in for a sloppy kiss, losing himself in the thrust of his tongue and the warm heat of Stiles’ mouth. Another frustrated grunt from Stiles, though, brought him back to what he _should_ have been doing.

Quickly wetting his own hand, he reached between them. Wrapping it around Stiles’ cock, he grinned at the sigh of relief that ghosted across his ear. He looked up to find Stiles with his head thrown back and his mouth hanging open, his grip loosening as his hand paused in its ministration. 

Derek leaned forward, nipping and kissing his way across Stiles’ collarbones and pausing to suck a bruise here and there. His hand worked lazily up and down Stiles’ cock as he leaned back to study his work. His wolf preened at the sight of his marks on Stiles’ skin.

Stiles pitched forward against Derek’s chest, laying his head on his shoulder. He rocked into Derek’s hand, his moans and gasps echoing off the walls of the elevator. Derek buried his nose at the junction of Stiles’ neck and shoulder, drawing in their combining scent. 

He growled as Stiles drew his earlobe into his mouth and nipped at it, letting go to drag down Derek’s neck and then _biting_. Derek gasped and arched his back, pressing his hard dick against the back of his own hand, the head squeezing against Stiles’. Stiles cried out when it happened, his hips rocking faster, chasing his pleasure.

“Close,” Stiles whispered, reaching down between them and grabbing Derek’s hand. Interlocking their fingers, he wrapped them around both their erections. His grip was a little too strong and his pace just a bit too fast, but Derek found he didn’t care when Stiles set his teeth on the other side of Derek’s neck and bit down just this side of too hard. 

The pain of the bite shot through the pleasure of Stiles’ hand, and Derek stiffened against Stiles, unable to hold off his orgasm. Three or four strokes later and Stiles was crying out his own release, slumping against Derek’s chest, completely uncaring of the mess between them.

They sat there for a few minutes, just breathing at each other. Derek closed his eyes and nuzzled the side of Stiles’ head. Stiles looked up and gently cradled Derek’s jaw in his hand, bring his face down for a soft kiss. 

They sat and traded light, easy kisses and let their hands roam over warm skin. Finally, Stiles sighed and cuddled down into Derek’s chest, resting his head against his collarbone and tracing random patterns into the skin above his heart. His breathing evened out, and Derek had no doubt he was very close to falling asleep.

Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’ back, holding him close. He kissed the top of Stiles’ head, settling in for a long wait. His eyes were just drifting closed when the elevator shuddered under them and the lights snapped on. 

Blinking in the sudden brightness, Derek looked down and drank in the site of a thoroughly debauched Stiles, who lifted his head and blinked owlishly at Derek. His lips were bright red and swollen, his hair was in complete disarray from Derek’s wandering hands, and his face was flushed very becomingly. Unable to resist, he smiled and leaned in, catching those lips once more just as the doors slid open.

“Oh my God!” He heard Scott exclaim. “Dude! I did not need to see that! Or smell it! _Oh my God! Stiles!_ ” 

Derek and Stiles exchanged a glance and then burst out laughing. Stiles buried his face in Derek’s neck as Derek looked up at Scott and just raised a questioning brow.

“Okay, yeah,” Scott said. “You know what. I’m just gonna -- yeah.” He reached in and hit the door close button, then turned and gestured at someone behind him. “They’re...really okay, guys, so let’s go. Yup.” Derek could hear the clap of hands as Scott started walking away. “We can go. Nothing to see here. Move along.”

With a satisfied smirk at the closing doors, Derek turned back to a warm and willing Stiles. “You know,” he said softly, drawing his nose along Stiles’ jaw. “I have a very soft bed in my loft.”

Stiles smirked at him. “Oh yeah?” he said archly. “Well, then. What are we doing sitting around here for?” 

Derek laughed as Stiles scrambled out of his lap, fastening his pants and going in search of his shirt. Finding it in the corner of the elevator, he picked it up and used it to wipe the mess from his stomach. He stuffed the dirty garment into his back pocket before hitting the door open button and turning back to Derek, holding out his hand. 

Derek allowed himself to be pulled up, laughing as Stiles fumbled with the button on Derek’s jeans. He followed Stiles right to the elevator door, but he paused just over the threshold. Stiles turned and looked at him in question. With a gentle tug, Derek pulled Stiles to his chest, pressing their lips together in a sweet kiss.

Derek felt Stiles’ lips curve into a smile. Derek backed him into the hallway, never relinquishing his hold or breaking their kiss. Stiles pulled back with a laugh and linked their hands together, pulling Derek toward the exit. “Best haunted house ever!”

Derek couldn’t agree more.


End file.
